


Cold Reality

by spowell Once and Future Series (SPowell)



Series: Once and Future [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Returns, Jealous!Arthur, M/M, continuing series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1622864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/spowell%20Once%20and%20Future%20Series
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur gets a dose of cold reality.</p><p>Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to BBC and Shine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Camelot Land Challenge 3 The Big One prompt words: Idersholas, Sigan's Tomb, and Western Isles.

Merlin bursts into the flat, visibly excited; and although Arthur notes it, he’s engrossed in the history of the Western Isles and can’t be arsed to put his book down.

“I finally did it!” Merlin exclaims, hanging his jacket on the coat rack.

Arthur hums, turning a page.

“Finally found some good sense rattling about in that head of yours? Good job that, Merlin.”

“Har, har.” Merlin climbs over the coffee table and, knocking the book out of Arthur’s hands, straddles his lap.

“No, you wanker, I finally saved up enough money to make an offer on the shop.” He plants a kiss on Arthur’s parted lips, and Arthur breathes in the scent of him.

“And McDougal accepted!” Merlin continues, bouncing a little in a way that's very distracting. “It’s mine now! I’m the proud owner of _By the Book!_ ”

A slow smile spreads over Arthur’s face. This is something he knows Merlin’s wanted for a long time.

“That’s brilliant, Merlin,” he says softly.

“Isn’t it?” Merlin’s laughter is contagious, and soon the two of them are giggling like school boys. “And I want you to work with me. We’ll be an unstoppable team!”

Arthur nods and continues to smile, but a contrary part of him can’t help but wonder how he went from ruling a kingdom to working in a book shop under his servant.

^^^

Arthur’s always enjoyed reading, although as king he had even less time to do it than he did as prince. These days he finds he has quite a lot of time on his hands, and sometimes takes a break in the back of the shop to read a few pages of something that catches his eye.

He does try to pull his weight, though. It rankles a bit that Merlin has to show him the proper way to sweep the floor, but Arthur catches on soon enough. Arthur’s done a lot of thinking about it. He’s a Pendragon, afterall; and as such, it’s his responsibility to be the best he can be no matter his station. Arthur isn’t sure that’s exactly what his father would say in this situation or not, but it feels right.

The customers that frequent _By the Book_ are an eclectic lot, and on the whole, Arthur doesn’t pay much attention to them. There is one, however, who comes so frequently that Arthur eventually can’t help take notice, particularly since the man spends an inordinate amount of time talking to Merlin, and there’s something about his body language that speaks of familiarity.

Over the course of a few visits, Arthur learns the man’s name is Brandon Davies. He’s tall, lithe, and freckled, and Arthur hates him; particularly the way he intimately chats with Merlin about the books in the shop, and perhaps other things, although Arthur can never catch the words.

Arthur doesn’t ask Merlin about this, but soon finds his curiosity getting the best of him when he once again catches Davie’s voice raised in joviality at the front of the shop.

Arthur rises from where he’s been perusing Shakespeare under the guise of dusting and heads for the shelves near the check-out counter. He removes a fat tome on Sigan’s Tomb and peers through the rectangular hole it leaves on the shelf just as Davies and Merlin share some kind of a joke that makes Merlin _laugh._

Ire rises within Arthur in an all-encompassing wave, and his chest constricts painfully. Merlin’s laugh—that particular one at least—is reserved just for Arthur; or so Arthur previously thought. Now Arthur’s beginning to wonder just who Merlin’s been laughing with for the past thousand years.

Arthur’s no stranger to jealousy, of course; he experienced it occasionally when visiting noblemen got handsy with Gwen. But then it was just a passing feeling, not this rapidly consuming fire devouring all else and threatening to eat him alive as well.

Arthur’s eyes narrow and his nostrils flare as he continues watching.

_He will allow this, but if the man once dares to touch Merlin, Arthur cannot be responsible for his actions._

Mid-laugh, Merlin suddenly stills, eyes darting toward the bookshelf Arthur stands behind. Still smiling, Merlin turns to the machine that holds the currency.

Merlin gives the man his total pleasantly but with a definite, business-like air. Davies digs into the pockets of expensively tailored, grey trousers and pulls out a leather purse…or, rather, _wallet--_ Arthur has promised Merlin he’ll try to learn the modern terms for these things—and withdraws a wad of bills. Davies begins counting them out, and Arthur smiles to himself when Merlin withholds the use of his palm and the man is forced to place the bills one by one on the counter top.

Bag in hand, Davies starts for the door, and Merlin follows him at a distance, cordially thanking him and wishing him a good day. To Arthur’s eyes the man appears thrown and uncertain at Merlin’s apparent dismissal of him, and sure enough, Davies stops at the door and tries to draw Merlin into conversation one last time.

When Davies reaches out a pale, freckled hand and rests it on Merlin’s arm, Arthur pulls in a breath of air, standing rigidly in place for only two beats of his heart before stepping out from behind the bookshelf.

“Merlin, do you by any chance have a reference book on Idirsholas?” Arthur hears Davies ask, wide brown eyes peering at Merlin in a manner that reminds Arthur of a motherless calf. Not for the first time since Arthur opened his eyes on this new world, his fingers itch for the hilt of his sword.

With a look over his shoulder at Arthur, Merlin bustles Brandon out the door and onto the sidewalk.

“No, I don’t. Have a good afternoon!”

The bells on the door jangle as Merlin closes it and turns to Arthur, stopping him mid-charge, a hand on each of Arthur’s shoulders.

“Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?” Merlin is much stronger than he used to be, Arthur notes.

“I’m going to have a word with _…_ Merlin, unhand me!”

“Arthur, calm down. Gods, good thing the shop is empty. Come sit, and we’ll have some tea.”

“I don’t want any _tea_ , Merlin, I want to go shove a reference book on Idersholas up someone’s arse!”

Merlin actually chuckles at this before pushing Arthur back, locking up, pulling the shade, and attaching the _Closed for Lunch_ sign to the glass door.

“I fail to see what is so funny,” Arthur remarks, seething inside.

“You are,” Merlin replies, and heads for the reading area where the large steel contraptions holding tea sit somehow keeping it warm all day.

Arthur peers around the shade.

“Arthur, you’re being absurd.”

“He touched you,” Arthur says, eyes glued to the patch of sidewalk outside the shop.

“People touch me all the time.”

Arthur straightens and looks at Merlin, whose back’s to Arthur where Merlin stands pouring tea. Reluctantly, Arthur moves to sit in one of the great arm chairs pushed close to a table piled with copies of various best sellers.

Merlin turns to hand Arthur his cup, and when Arthur doesn’t take it, sets it on the table. He sits in the chair beside Arthur and crosses his legs, teacup and saucer in hand.

Arthur stares at the wall opposite.

“He touched you in a manner I didn’t care for,” Arthur says after a moment.

Merlin doesn’t immediately reply, which only proves to Arthur that Merlin knows what he’s talking about.

“How well are you acquainted with this man?” Arthur asks, turning to really look at his friend-turned-lover.

Merlin licks his lips and stares down into his cup.

“He’s a regular in the shop. We’re friends…of a sort.”

The outraged feeling that Arthur got the moment he saw Davies leaning in close to Merlin over the counter hasn’t diminished in the slightest, and the look on Merlin’s face right then increases it ten-fold.

“You’re interested in him,” Arthur accuses, his voice suddenly lacking inflection as his emotions shut down and his defenses take over.

Merlin’s eyes fly to meet Arthur’s. “No, Arthur! No.” He shakes his head and leans forward to place his untouched tea on the table.

“I don’t believe you,” Arthur tells him. “The tips of your ears are red.”

“The tips of my…” Merlin reaches up to cover his ears. “Bloody hell, Arthur! That’s…” He shakes his head again.

Arthur looks away. “It’s been a thousand years,” he intones. “I can’t expect you’ve been celibate. Besides, we never…before…”

Merlin makes a strangled sound. “Arthur…” he breathes. “Can we just—do this later, yeah? There’s an entire work afternoon to get through.”

Arthur shrugs, standing. “I was thinking about going home, actually. There are a few things I need to do.” The funny thing is--and Arthur knows Merlin knows this-- Arthur has absolutely nothing to do at home. Since his return, his life solely revolves around Merlin and their life together.

“Don’t, Arthur,” Merlin pleads quietly, and Arthur pointedly does not look at him as he leaves the shop.

At home in the dark, quiet flat, Arthur tries to wrap his mind around the fact that his life ended a very long time ago and Merlin’s just kept going. Arthur has known this since the moment he opened his eyes again, of course. But to see real evidence of it is excruciating. He feels useless and at loose ends in this world, and the very thought of Merlin ever belonging to anyone else makes Arthur want to…

He doesn’t know what, but time will tell.


End file.
